


if the accident will

by dakhtar



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Mythology/Religion, Alien Planet, Alien Rituals, Gen, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Lance-centric, Light Angst, Near Drowning, Sea God of Day & Sea God of Night, hunk is literally in a pod this entire time except the very end okay he's a tired ball of sunshine, spiritual telepathic mind... violation...??, the ocean on this planet is very angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-05-28 16:07:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dakhtar/pseuds/dakhtar
Summary: After an injury lands Hunk in a cryopod, Lance and the others find themselves having to deal with a quiet, alien race that demands they pay reparations to their gods; the sea god of day, and the sea god of night.It... does not go well.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not so sure about the summary, but hey, I can't think of anything else. *shrugs* This fic is finished at 3 chapters (unless I add more via editing) for now, and I'll update on a weekly basis (because I have no other time I'm sorry). Lance-centric fic, but with a grossly ignored character: the yellow lion. Because blue is great 'n all, and i love her, but, like, yellow. Any lion that chooses Hunk is gonna be, like, _best_ lion, okay? And bonus points for not rejecting your paladin for the princess. *eyes blue judgingly*
> 
>  **also** timeline is wonky here (wrote this before s5), so Shiro disappeared, Allura tried the lion shuffling thing and failed horribly, and then Shiro popped back up with new scars and trauma and refusing to tell anyone anything. and then this fic happens.

Hunk was hurt. Badly so.

And Lance... He'd been...

 _Useless_.

Staring up at his best friend’s frozen face, Lance took in the hum of the working cryopod, the colour coordinated Altean display illegible to him but reassuring nonetheless, and exhaled through his nose. His jaw was tense, had been ever since he’d landed Blue in the hanger and ran straight here to the infirmary, and by now it was giving him a pretty annoying headache.

But... Hunk. _Hunk_ was _hurt_.

“He'll be fine,” Coran had reassured him gently, the words for him and him alone. “He’ll be out before you know it, m'boy.”

Lance trusted Coran. He really, really, did. It was hard not to trust a man as genuine and bright as Coran. But...

 _Hunk_.

God, Hunk's four foot grandma was going to _kill him_.

“You should rest,” Coran spoke up from behind him, squeezing one of his shoulders supportively. “That battle was quite a doozy, if I say so myself.”

Inhaling deeply, Lance turned to face the Altean, noticing the tense lines around his eyes and the weary set to his shoulders. Everyone was struggling, here in the castle, ever since Shiro had disappeared and reappeared out of the blue three months later. Lance and Hunk had had their hands full with Keith and Pidge during those long, cold months, and Coran had struggled with a stressed out Allura. Shiro’s return should have dispelled that, but his refusal to speak of where he'd been or where he'd gotten the new scars from had only made the tension thicker.

Now, a month later, none of them were doing okay, not really, and things had only been getting worse since Lotor had taken control. Coran looked like he needed some rest himself, but there was no point in pointing that out. So instead, Lance asked, “What’re you going to do?”

Smiling tiredly, Coran answered, “Check up on the Yellow Lion. Assess the damage, maybe begin some repairs. Nothing I, Coran the Coranic, can’t do.” He grinned, a bit of life returning to his face at the title, and Lance found himself grinning back tiredly without his say so.

“Can I come with you?” He asked.

Tugging at the end of his moustache, Coran shrugged amicably. “I don’t see why not. But you _will_ rest afterwards, you hear me?”

 _Just as soon as you do_ , Lance nodded. He quickly followed after Coran, both of their long legs eating up the distance to the Yellow Lion's hanger. Behind him, the cryopod continued humming, working at healing his best friend's wounds. Every part of Lance was screaming at him to turn back, to keep watch, to not _fail_ like he already had. Sure, he’d been on the other side of the planet when the trap had sprung, sure he’d been keeping Pidge and the smaller Green Lion safe from their own hoard of Galra fighter ships, _sure_ Hunk had gotten hurt doing the same for Keith…

But.

Hunk would be fine; a few days in the ‘pod, maybe a week at most, Coran had said. Lance trusted Coran. So Hunk would be fine.

The Yellow Lion’s hanger was on the opposite side of Blue's, close to the Green Lion's. Lance didn’t often visit this side of the castle, but when he did it was usually to the hangers to catch a few minutes with their residential geniuses.

This time however, neither of them were around. No one was, really. Lance and Shiro had been the last back from their mission – after fighting off the Galra forces they’d gone down to check up on the Ovna’s, an agile race built like a brickhouse that had an affinity for the water and ice they’re planet was encased in.

Because of that, the Blue Lion had been the only lion at full capacity during the fight, and Lance had pushed her hard and fast as the others struggled to navigate the harsh tides of an angry sea while surviving the Galra. Even forming Voltron had been difficult - Blue's presence dominated in their shared mind link, and the others had snapped at Lance to _tone it down_ as if he’d had any control over it. It hadn't worked, and soon after they’d separated and followed Shiro's terse orders as a huge tsunami took out a good dozen of Galra ships and tried hard to do the same to Pidge.

“The Ovna's beliefs are quite... active, aren’t they?” Coran murmured, snapping Lance out of his thoughts, their footsteps echoing loudly around them. “I’m not surprised they worship a water based deity after the performance from the ocean we saw today.”

“Hyvixa, right?” Lance agreed thoughtfully. “The sea god of day? Yeah...” he trailed off, remembering the forceful waves, the harsh spray of water that even Blue had tried to avoid, “She was really angry.”

Coran shot him a look, befuddled amusement in his voice as he asked, “She? The Ovna have no gender distinctions, if I remember correctly. And certainly not for their religious figures.”

Shaking his head a little, Lance furrowed his eyebrows in thought as he played back the day’s event. “I’m not sure but, she felt like a she, I guess? The ocean, I mean. And I remember the Ovna talking about her afterwards, and I got the distinct impression that Azunia – the sea god of night – was... like, a he?” Blue rumbled weakly in his mind, momentarily coming out of her much needed rest to confirm it for him. Lance sent back a peevish demand at her to _rest_ , since he could feel just how much that little communication took out of her. “Blue agrees with me.” He added on anyway, shrugging at Coran's rising eyebrows.

“That’s...” the Altean fiddled with his moustache, appraising Lance as if suddenly noticing a new, interesting puzzle. “... fascinating.” He finally finished, and Lance got the distinct feeling Coran had wanted to say something else, maybe ask more questions. Nonetheless, the older man didn't, still fiddling with his moustache in thought as they finally reached the hangar, the doors sliding smoothly out of the way for them.

Inside, the Yellow Lion was sprawled out on his side, battered and bruised, unresponsive as they drew closer. Lance swallowed thickly at the sight of the usually robust lion forcibly brought down to the ground, mind flashing to Hunk’s peaceful face in the cryopod.

Coran quickly got to work, whipping out a tablet from who knew where while his long legs set to circling the downed lion. He was muttering quietly to himself, stylus scribbling harshly against the Altean tech’s surface as he noticed something new to fix. Lance followed after him quietly, listening in as the list grew longer and longer, growing more and more relieved as the damage turned out to mostly be superficial.

“Just a simple case of the old zillies!” Coran finally announced, spinning on his heels to face Lance. “After some rest and a good scrubbing, she should be good as new!”

“He.” Lance corrected distractedly, too busy being relieved over the good news to worry. “Hunk’ll be happy to hear that. I bet the first thing he’ll ask about when he comes out will be how his lion is.”

Coran plucked at the end of his facial hair, expression going sharp for a single moment as he studied Lance before relaxing into a fond smile. “No doubt he will, number three. Just as you would do if the roles were switched. Now off with you! I believe we both need some rest, don't you?”

Lance shrugged unapologetically as he was shooed away, letting Coran hustle him out of the hangers and away from Yellow’s silent form. He caught a final glance just before the hanger doors silently slid close, glad that they'd have good news to give Hunk when he healed up.

The good news was tempered by the afterimage though, the image that followed him as he bid Coran goodnight and watched the man amble away to his quarters. The afterimage of Yellow, in the exact spot he'd gone offline in since flying back to the castle with a passed out, injured Hulk at the helm; the dark eyes, the still body, the complete lack of a _presence_.

Lance didn't know where their Lions went when they were too injured to stay awake. He didn't know if they even _went_ anywhere, or if their lack of a presence was just them… turned off. But he didn't like it. He didn't like what it meant. He didn't like that Yellow had gotten so hurt protecting Red, that Hunk had gotten so hurt protecting Keith. That the mission today had gone so wrong so quickly, everyone fighting the Galra but also fighting the sea. That Hyvixa had been so angry and so _loud_ , deafening Lance to Shiro’s orders.

Just a few more days, Lance told himself, just a few more days and Allura would have a treaty with the Ovna, and Hunk would be alright, and Yellow would be awake and as solid as always.

Just a few more days.

#

But.

_Yellow._

The image refused to leave him that night, leaving Lance blearily staring at the ceiling. Oh, he felt tired alright, exhausted even, every muscle in his body ached from overworking them, but sleep wouldn't come regardless. Sighing, Lance pulled the earphones free, turning the shitty pop song Pidge somehow liked off with a swipe of a finger.

Yellow’s dinged up body kept flashing in his mind’s eye; the scraped metal, the entire dented area where the lion and paladin combo had taken the ion cannon head on, the rust no doubt beginning to set in from the ocean’s salt.

Lance and Blue had taken a few hits themselves, here and there. Even with their heightened senses from being surrounded by their element Hyvixa had still done a number on them. Lance wasn't surprised – the ocean had never been known for showing favourites. Blue would have to recover, just like all the other Lions, but she'd recover _quicker_. Lance wouldn't have to worry about sea salt with Blue; it would heal her just as much as it would harm the others, but Yellow? The only worse lion to take such damage would've been Red.

Lance clenched his jaw tight at that – at the thought of Keith and Red disappearing under Hyvixa’s watery wrath. He was a hundred percent certain that they would have never been found.

Blue grumbled in his mind, sending him reproach for the turn of his thoughts. Lance sent back his own reproach for her _listening in_ , since _someone_ should be _healing_. A sheepish glow returned, and Lance realised she'd _missed_ him, that in that short time away from their connection she'd grown lonely without him. Heart fit to bursting, Lance grinned helplessly at his ceiling, his sleep mask cracking along his cheeks with the force of it.

Blue was everything that was keeping him sane here, in the middle of space. Well, her and Hunk.

_Hunk._

Sighing, Lance rolled out of bed and quickly cleaned off the face mask. The route down to Yellow’s hangar was easy to replicate despite the darkened hallways, the usual clinical hospital glow of the castle dimmed low to replicate night for delicate human circadian rhythms. The doors still slid open when he finally reached them though, uncaring to the concept of time, letting Lance in easily.

Yellow lay exactly where he'd been before, unmoving, cold, completely lacking in presence.  At least, at first it seemed that way, but as Lance drew closer the large lion shuddered ever so slightly into movement, dragging his head in such a way as to face Lance, to tiredly acknowledge him.

“Not you too,” Lance scolded gently, moving closer on quiet feet. “Go back to healing. I just wanted to check up on you.”

Yellow’s eyes – a muted glow of liquid amber, not nearly as bright as usual – grew slightly brighter in response, but not nearly as bright as they normally would be. Lance frowned, wondering why Yellow wouldn't just _sleep,_ what was it with Lions refusing to take the time they needed to _rest_ and _heal_. Blue knew she could take as much time as she needed, she knew Lance had been fine, _would_ be fine, that he'd be there for her as soon as she came out of her restorative sleep, and Yellow knew that Hunk would be too-

-wait. No. Yellow _didn't_.

Yellow had come in with a passed out Hunk, and had turned offline as soon as a panicked Keith and Coran had pulled him out. Yellow wouldn't know how his Paladin fared in the slightest – especially with Hunk completely out and thus their bond equally gone silent, and nobody would have thought to tell him because honestly who _would_? But, then, why had the Lions not told him?

 _Asleep_ , Blue murmured quietly in his ears, words rolling in and out like the tide. She'd only woken up recently herself, she told him apologetically, and just for short moments like this, with Lance. She hadn't even _thought_ to tell Yellow.

And _of_ _course_ , the other Lions and their Paladins would be asleep too, Lance realised with a start, nobody would have been awake to pass on the message, Yellow had been waiting all this time and was now waiting for _Lance-_

“He's _okay_ ,” he choked out, reeling from the shock of it all. “He’ll be _fine_. He's in a cryopod now but he'll be out in a few days’ time.” _Up to a week,_ Coran’s voice echoed in his head. “Holy crow, I’m _so sorry_ for not telling you sooner, I didn’t- I didn’t _think_.” Of course he hadn’t. He was stupid. He was so goddamn _stupid_. Completely _useless_ as a paladin _and_ a friend. Hunk deserved _so much better_ -

 _Breathe_ , Blue soothed, never pleased with his negative thoughts, _breathe_.

Lance breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with the filtered castle air. He exhaled slowly through his nose, shoulders loosening as he did, stabilising himself again. He was on a hair-trigger, emotions still running high from the onslaught the day before, and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping in the slightest.

In front of him, Yellow’s eyes glowed faintly, a whisper of his apparent consciousness. For a minute, Lance was worried Yellow wanted more information, maybe an update on what they’d done after the fight with the Ovna, but Yellow rumbled quietly, the mechanical, audible, noise still lightly shaking the ground at Lance’s feet, settled in more comfortably, and finally, went still and quiet.

The yellow glow faded from his eyes.

Yellow was finally asleep.

Lance started breathing again, not sure when he’d stopped, and took in the behemoth in front of him. He’d always been aware of just how big the lions were, unnerved by the size difference between Green and Black, but Yellow was something different. Black was _huge_ , in presence and size, a daunting mountain that loomed over anyone even remotely in their presence. But Yellow… Yellow was _large_. Built like the mechanical space cat version of a brickhouse, and with a steady, solid presence through the bond whenever they formed Voltron.

Just like Hunk.

Licking his dry lips, Lance stared for a few ticks longer, feeling something finally settle in his core, before turning around and making his way to the door. The hanger doors slid open silently, as always, but before leaving, Lance glanced back at the slumbering lion, at the image presented to him, and found himself preferring it a lot more than the previous one.

Yellow would be fine, he decided. Just like Hunk. They’d all be fine.

Lance would make sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why yes, i do indeed have trouble understanding the word 'schedule', why ever do you ask? next chapter is going to be the last, as well the biggest. It's, like, more than 7k. Until then!

The Ovna demanded they apologise to their sea god of day, and also demanded they make an offering to their sea god of night before they left.

“What ridiculousness,” Allura huffed, giving up on trying to opt out, “I detest it when culture and mythological ideations get in the way of diplomacy.”

“Now, now, princess,” Coran chided, throwing her a sharp look. “Beliefs are a powerful thing, and should not be taken lightly. Simply because we do not share their views nor understand them does not give us the right to belittle them. We must make reparations simply for the fact that they say we must. That is what diplomacy is.”

Allura must have heard the lecture many times already because she just rolled her eyes and nodded. “Of course,” she sighed, turning to the rest of the waiting paladins, sans Hunk. “Paladins, we’ll stay for a few more vargas, but no more. Apparently, the apology must be done in a varga’s time, and the offering once their sun has set.”

“I’d prefer we didn’t stay here any longer than we’d have to,” Shiro frowned. “I don’t quite like this planet.”

Keith fervently agreed with a quiet, emphatic, “ _Yes._ ”

Opposite them, hunched over his bowl of food goo, Lance kept his mouth shut, poking the food listlessly as Pidge and Allura joined in and expressed their distaste around the kitchen table. He didn’t dislike the planet, personally, not really, but he couldn’t say he much liked it either. This was where Hunk had gotten hurt, and that put a damper on any enthusiasm Lance might have felt, but… he had a feeling his team's distaste for the planet was just… because of a miscommunication, however weird that sounded.

Hyvixa, for instance, had just been angry. She probably wouldn’t have caused them so much trouble on a normal day, but invaders had appeared from the sky and started hurting her people, started hurting _her_. And then Voltron had swooped in from the same sky and joined the battle. How was she supposed to know which invaders were good and which were bad? The Galra had started attacking the Ovna over some imaginary slight, and Voltron had received the distress signal and swooped in without so much as a by your leave.

Not that Lance was gonna say anything. Shiro was in a foul mood, upset over the complete clusterfuck yesterday’s mission had been. Keith was twitchy and unnerved by how little control he’d had, unused to being unable to use his instincts when Red had been so sluggish under the siren song of the ocean’s pull. Pidge just hated the near misses and how little use she’d been, the Green Lion unable to do much but try and stay above the mountain tall waves while simultaneously dodging the Galra’s blasts.

They made plans anyway, the three of them, to go out and stretch their legs. Allura agreed to call them through their comms when the time for the apology was close, and swept Coran away to do something or other with the ship. Lance bowed out when Pidge asked him if he wanted to come, citing fatigue, and ducked out when he noticed the light in Shiro’s eyes that preceded a good chewing out or two.

He let his legs lead him through the castle’s too big hallways, his footsteps echoing in the constant silence, and wasn’t too surprised to find himself in the infirmary. Hunk was still out cold, looking far more peaceful this morning than he had the last time Lance had seen him, and the crypod hummed reassuringly at him, telling him all was well.

Satisfied, Lance turned and continued on his walk, stopping by his room to gather some blankets and a pillow. He meandered his way in the opposite direction of Blue’s hanger, safe in the knowledge that she was completely out for the count this time, but not before telling him she’d be a hundred percent a-okay by the time nightfall came around on this planet. She’d be fine, and when she finally woke up, Lance would be right there with her, greeting her with a big smile and a warm hug.

Yellow, too, was asleep, Lance saw when he entered his hangar. The mechanical beast had moved at some point throughout the night, now on his stomach with his head pillowed on his paws rather than sprawled across his side, and he looked much more rested. It was almost amazing just how quickly the lions self-repaired, all thanks to some mystical magic Lance hadn’t even _tried_ to wrap his head around. It didn’t really matter, as long as it kept working to keep the lion’s safe.

“Hey, big guy,” Lance greeted, even though Yellow’s eyes were turned off. “You’re looking better already.”

His armour was still dinged up though, the paint scratched and eroded in some places, the sea salt Lance had been worried about already setting in. It made Lance wince, thinking of salt in a wound and how much that _stung_ , and wondered if it was the same for the lions.

The rumble of moving machinery caught his wayward attention, Yellow turning his head ever so slightly to face Lance. The Cuban boy faltered for a moment, surprised at being acknowledged twice in a row by a lion that wasn’t his own, and watched as a light somewhat brighter than yesterdays appeared in Yellow’s eye sockets.

“Uuuh,” he hesitated dumbly. “Hunk is fine?”

The ensuing relief was palpable, a release of tension Lance hadn’t even noticed permeating the air. Yellow settled in more firmly, apparently satisfied with the answer, and got comfortable for a good sleep.

Pleased that he’d done something right, Lance plopped down onto the ground, dropping the pillow and following it up with his head against the fluffy mound. A few blankets formed a cushion against the hard ground while another covered his body. Yellow peered at him as Lance got comfortable, giving off an air of what Lance was somehow certain was curiosity.

“Don’t worry about me,” Lance told one fifth of the legendary defender. “I’m just going to keep you company.” A sudden bout of self-consciousness hit him then, doubt quickly overtaking as he asked, “If… that’s okay with you?”

Yellow didn’t respond, at least not verbally, but Lance got the sensation that the lion was more than fine with Lance’s presence. His eye sockets were still on, glowing a softer yellow than his armour, feeling like they were trained on Lance. It kind of reminded Lance of his first meeting with Blue, all the way back on Earth, when he’d felt paranoid that the lion’s eyes had been following him. Actually, it felt _exactly_ like that, meaning Yellow probably _was_ looking at him, directly.

“All the others are asleep,” Lance explained, reassured by the lion’s lack of rejection. “The lions, I mean. The others have gone out, though Allura and Coran are around somewhere, doing god knows what. I figured you could use the company, especially while Hunk’s healing up. You should sleep though, still need to heal, right?”

He didn’t expect an answer, since Yellow wasn’t _his_ lion or anything, so he didn’t wait for one. The hangars were all a bit chilly for maintenance purposes, but not outright cold. Still, Lance burrowed into his blankets, wrapping himself up in a cocoon just the way he liked it, and stuffed his face into his pillow.

He expected the lion to go into rest mode, now that he’d gotten his update about Hunk, but Yellow kept peering at him, huge mechanical body lazy and still. Wracking his mind around for what the lion could want, Lance stared around at the hanger, searching for inspiration.

A sudden thought hit him. “Oh dude,” the Cuban boy grinned, huffing a laugh as he turned to the Yellow lion. “Oh, my man, my guy, my big earth shaker, my other leg, the yellow to my blue – have I ever told you about how I met Hunk?”

The answer was obviously no, since Lance hadn’t ever spoken to a lion other than Blue before, but the sudden brightening of Yellow’s eyes filled Lance right up with an unholy amount of glee.

Curling closer to the lion, Lance squirmed a little in excitement, grin growing larger when Yellow _actually shuffled closer_. The lion moved aside his paws, letting his head lower to the ground further, making the space between them more intimate, almost conspiratory.

Oh, this was going to be _good_.

Launching into the story was easy, getting so caught up he had to struggle with his blankets to free his arms was inevitable, and the story of how one Lance Sanchez McClain met one Tsuyoshi ‘Hunk’ Garrett came together to the waiting audience of an attentive Yellow Lion.

#

“-ance. Lance.” A muffled voice called to him. “As much as seeing you sleep makes this worried old coot relax a little, this is definitely not the place for it.”

“No’ old,” Lance rasped, voice throaty and heavy with sleep. “Sprin’time of _youth_.”

Coran laughed, the heartfelt noise blanketing Lance deeper into the warmth of his sleep. A hand was on his shoulder, he realised distantly, warm and solid, squeezing slightly as Coran said, “You flatter me, m’boy. But your body will not thank you for sleeping here. The floor _cannot_ be comfortable.”

It really wasn’t, now that Coran mentioned it. Lance was already all skin and bones – the floor was unforgiving for people like him. God, what he’d do to have some cushioning like Hunk. Or maybe even Shiro. All that muscle must be good for something.

Groaning, Lance forced his eyes open, blinking them repeatedly in a bid to get the sleep out of them. Coran’s face poked into his vision, ginger hair and bright eyes a welcome sight, and gave him a warm smile in greeting.

Looking around, Lance frowned for a moment in confusion at where he was, having expected to be in his bedroom despite Coran’s words about the floor. But no, he was… in the Yellow Lion’s hangar?

Oh. Oh! He’d been chatting with Yellow! He must have fallen asleep at some point, huh.

Wrestling out from the twisted mess that was his blankets, Lance finally sat up and took in the actual lion. Yellow was completely inactive this time, eyes dark and gone, but his position was telling. He was closer – far closer than Lance remembered from the initial start of their conversation – with his paws loosely around Lance in an almost protective hold.

He wondered how long they’d spoken for- wait- “Coran, how long has it been since breakfast?”

“Just over a varga,” the man promptly answered, peering at Lance in curiosity. “Have you been here this entire time?”

An understandable question, Lance figured, considering usually he would have been with Blue, or in his room, or bugging Pidge. Maybe even dogging Coran’s steps himself, like some kind of lanky, blue-uniformed terrier.

“Uh, yeah,” Lance sheepishly agreed, rubbing a hand through the back of his head. “Figured Yellow could use the company.”

Coran hummed at that, eyebrows rising in surprise, and cast a glance at the lion shaped ship. “Well,” he finally said thoughtfully. “I’m sure the Yellow Lion appreciated that greatly. Regrettably, I must pull you from your sleep. It’s ‘bout time we went off to do the ritual apology to the Ovna.”

Right. That was meant to be in an hour’s time. And Lance had chatted with Yellow for god knew how long and slept the rest of it away. Struggling to his feet, Lance thanked Coran when the Altean helpfully pulled him out of his blankets with one, super strong, yank. It outright lifted Lance clean off his feet, dangling for a second by the gripped arm before Coran gently placed him back on the floor. Man, he kept forgetting how strong Alteans were. Thank crow Coran never deemed to join in on their training sessions like Allura did. The princess always swept the deck with them without so much as breaking a sweat.

Cracking his back, Lance let loose a pained groan, Coran chuckling at his expense. “Ugh, fine.” He whined, leaning on the taller man’s shoulders for a moment. Proving just how amazing he was, Coran wrapped an arm around him, squeezing him fondly while also dragging him forward out of Yellow’s loose embrace.

Lance let himself be led, pausing for a minute to gather up his blankets and pillow, and shot the lion a loud goodbye over his shoulder as Coran quickly hustled him out.

The responding creak of metal, accompanied by flashing eyes as Yellow took back his paws and pillowed his head on them, twisted Lance’s lips into a pleased grin.

The hangar doors slid silently shut behind him.

#

Hyvixa was still angry, naturally.

The sea rolled and churned, froth spraying the team as they stepped down to the cold marble that made up the Ovna’s single landmass. Keith stood the furthest he could get away from the water, eyeing it warily, almost using Shiro as a shield.

“He’s been like that all day,” Pidge told Lance under her breath, using his own body as a windbreaker – though honestly that was just par for the course, she’d been doing that since the Garrison days, so he wasn’t too insulted. Much. “The whole thing yesterday really shook him badly. Shiro too.”

An extra strong wave crashed against the side of the cement railing before Lance could respond, spraying him with ice cold water that felt like tiny daggers. Pidge shrieked and lunged behind Shiro, immediately getting into a pushing match with Keith as they fought over the real estate that was Shiro’s broad chest. Seemed like she’d been shook by the confrontation too.

Grumbling at his suddenly wet side, Lance shot the sea a reproachful look, wincing as he got the sensation of her _hissing at him_. Quiznack, she was angry. It was like she felt insulted that they’d questioned her ability to protect her own people by helping out. He didn’t have Blue right then and there to fine tune whatever the hell it was he was getting from her, but with the amount of anger she was projecting? It was pretty loud and clear.

The Ovna, completely untouched by the rolling seas, beckoned them further in as few words as possible, something about their culture favouring speaking only when absolutely necessary. Their voices were pitched low and rumbly, almost musical, as they began to lead the way. Lance fell in line with the others, wiping away whatever water the ocean spat at him distractedly, and looked around.

He hadn’t really been in any state of mind the other day to take in the only city on the planet, too busy fighting and then checking up on the natives to sightsee, but the planet of Ovara was just as frozen as it had looked like from outer space. What it wasn’t though was primitive; the one and only landmass on the planet was built with excellently manipulated marble – or something that looked like it, anyway – tall spires and large archways reflecting the light of their sun. It sparkled in the daytime, the silver colour of it matching the surrounding blue of ice and water.

The Ovna themselves almost echoed their surroundings – strong like the marble, but as mysterious as the sea. They were built with strength in mind, but moved with a sort of grace that Lance had seen in ballerinas. It was mesmerising to watch, but something about it rang warning bells in the back of Lance’s mind, leaving him strung up and on high alert.

Finally, they came to a stop right in front of what looked like a pier, one wider than Lance was used to, and faced each other. The Ovna’s leader – a slightly taller, bearded fellow – waved a hand at them to proceed silently, apparently not deeming it important to, ah, maybe _explain_.

“And what,” Allura began, trying to remain reasonable despite her quickly growing irritation, “are we supposed to do, exactly?”

The leader frowned at them, waving a hand at the pier again, the movement pulling his cobalt blue skin tight over ripped muscles.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” the princess huffed quietly under her breath. “This is ridiculous.”

“Look,” Shiro tried, taking a step forward to take the attention off of Allura. “We wish to apologise just as much as you do, but we’re not familiar with your customs. How, exactly, should we go about apologising? Any piece of information or advise would be great.”

A teal-coloured Ovna pointed at the water – which Lance noted suspiciously had quietened – and said, “Convene.”

… That didn’t really explain much.

Shiro was about to speak up again, most likely to ask for something more, but Allura touched his elbow lightly, shutting him up. “Let’s just go,” she told Shiro. “Let’s just… _convene_.”

Coran wasn’t with them to throw his the-royal-advisor- _disapproves_ look at her tone, opting to stay behind as none of the Ovna had seen him and trust their abilities in patching up their supposed blunder. Shiro sighed, acknowledging the futility of pressing for more information, and tilted his head at the pier to the rest of them.

As one, they began trudging along the marble walkway, Keith and Pidge trying to the best of their ability to stay in the middle and far away from the flimsy railings on either side. Allura snickered at the way they were all but hugging Shiro’s arms, the older paladin looking to the high heavens with exasperation, the fondness on his face betraying him.

“I wonder how we’re supposed to convene.” Lance questioned out loud, giving up on trying to get rid of the excess water on him. His hair was drenched at this point, salt water flooding his mouth every time he licked his lips. Unfortunately for Hyvixa, Lance _loved_ the ocean – all her prissy little fit was doing was making him nostalgic for his own ocean back home. “Maybe meditate at the end of the pier or something. Feel the air, or whatever.”

Varadero had had the most insane waters, calm during the day but full on roaring at night. It was such a staple of the city that the mayor had had to implement a nightly guard watch to dissuade dumb teenagers from trying to take the sea head on. Lance himself may or may not have been one of those dumb teenagers. May have. Allegedly. He’d never gotten caught, so no one could prove it.

Another spray of water hit him then, but…? It felt…? Almost like a gentle shower instead?

“Guess we’ll just have to try what we can.” Shiro reasonably responded, but Lance was too busy with staring at the sea. He veered off a little from the group, unknowingly stepping closer to the railing that seemed to be made of paper to get a closer look at the sea.

As if fully aware that he was looking at her, Hyvixa shot a stream of water at him, hitting him right in the face, and Lance spluttered and stumbled back a few steps.

“Lance!” Shiro sternly called out. “Get away from there!”

Quiznack, what a _bitch_ , Lance huffed, wiping the water from his eyes and glaring at the ocean. He was a hundred percent sure _his_ ocean was nicer, and less of a raging dick. A choppy wave rose threateningly at that, foaming at the top already, but fell when Lance took a hurried step backwards. A tiny splash fell over his shoes, instead, harmless but still annoying, and Lance realised with a start that the alien ocean was _laughing at him_.

A hundred percent sure, definitely. The seas back home were _definitely_ nicer. Holy crow, did he miss home.

“Lance!” Shiro shouted again, this time more insistently. “It’s not safe over there, get over here right now.”

Grumbling about angry sea gods and just how glad he was that the paladin armour was waterproof, Lance turned away from the surging sea towards his leader, hurrying towards them. They were all waiting for him, a bit more ahead than Lance had expected, all of them looking impatiently at him. Lance opened his mouth to apologise, wincing at having caused trouble again, but as he watched, their impatient expressions morphed into one of confusion, then shock, then-

“-Lance!” Shiro shouted, eyes wide with fear, dislodging himself from Keith and Pidge to reach for him. “Lance, _run_!”

And then _water_ , crashing down on him, stealing the air from him, dragging him backwards and throwing him upside down until he lost all sense of equilibrium. Lance shut his mouth on instinct, fear catching in his throat and holding his breath captive as the force of the wave crushed him and pulled him under, something that must have been the railing pressing up against him and breaking apart like the paper he’d compared it to just seconds ago.

There was no way he could fight against the force of the ocean pulling him back, no way he could swim – no direction to swim _too_ , since he had no idea what direction the pier was. The ocean was relentless against him, battering his suit and him inside it like it had a personal vendetta against him, and, Lance realised, it _did_.

Because Hyvixa was _loud_ here, so much more of a presence in her icy grip than she’d been out of it. Before he’d only have been able to get vague impressions of her, little moments of glimpses, but here- here he could hear her _clearly_ , and she. Did. Not. _Like_. Them.

 _Little blue_ , she mocked, tumbling him around to further disorient him, _you think to know the might of the ocean?_

Shit, they should’ve worn their helmets, _he_ should have worn his helmet. He grappled at his throat uselessly, the initial force of the wave having stolen what little air he could’ve had from him. Blue wasn’t awake to save him, he’d nagged her into fully going offline so she could heal, _quiznack_ , she was going to be pissed at him for this.

A strong rapid slammed into him, shocking him into exhaling what little air he had left. He couldn’t even see the bubbles, too many of them obscuring his vision from the strength of the water’s movement.

He was going to die.

Lance had always known the ocean would kill him.

The presence so woven into the liquid around him faltered, the force dragging him along slowing ever so slightly. Lance paid it no heed, still struggling _not to breathe_ , because while oxygen was present in the air bubbles around him, none of them were of the variety he could breathe.

He _did_ however, definitely pay attention to the _thing_ that slithered _right into his goddamn back_. It pierced right into his spine, a cold _needle_ entering and pushing in and _shoving its way upwards_. His body went rigid without his say so, limbs locking up, neck suddenly stiffening, and this time he couldn’t open up his mouth even if he’d wanted too.

Hyvixa – and Lance realised with a terrified start that it _was_ Hyvixa – invaded his very being, propelling herself right into his brain stem. He could feel her rooting around, overturning every piece of his _being_ as she burned right through him. Images of Cuba, of Varadero, of his family and beach days in the sun and illicit beach runs in the night flickered through, gut wrenchingly painful, the roar of _his_ ocean and the feel of _his_ sea overtaking his senses for a moment, his heart aching with the sensation of wanting _home_.

He’d been fully prepared, back on earth, to die in his ocean. Had considered it the best way to go, caught up in the watery embrace of the only place he’d felt more at ease than his own mother’s arms. But this _wasn’t_ home, this _wasn’t_ his ocean, Hyvixa _was not his god._ The salt tasted all wrong, the consistency of the water felt just a little bit too thick to his senses, and-

-She stopped as quickly as she’d begun, ripping away from him, the suddenness of her absence shocking his body into freedom and finally letting him _scream_. Water rushed into his mouth, choking him, the heavy pressure on his chest threatening to cave his armour straight into him. Lance struggled to fight back, legs kicking even as he knew the pointlessness of it.

Hunk was going to be _devastated_ when he woke up. And who was going to tell Yellow all the embarrassing Hunk stories that existed?

The ocean rumbled around him, the presence suddenly strengthening in a surge and picking him up. Lance prepared himself for whatever more Hyvixa was planning, but even still he could do nothing as she _pushed_ at him, shoving him in a single direction as opposed to everywhere. The underwater sound of rushing liquid deafened him, drowning out the panicked beat of his heart, but then – just like that – his ears _popped_ , and suddenly he felt weightless, as if he was falling through the sky rather than drowning in water.

The sensation didn’t last long, gravity suddenly tugging at his limbs and his body smacking into a hard surface. The shock of it snapped his lungs back into action, heaving coughs wracking his body as it fought to both dispel the swallowed water and inhale the needed oxygen at the same time. He couldn’t make sense of his surroundings, didn’t know where he was or what way he was even facing, too focused on self-preservation to give a damn.

Something grabbed at his shoulder from out of nowhere, and Lance did a full body flinch, terrified that it was the ocean back to snatch him up again. His ears were roaring still with the ocean’s wrath, the beat of his heart trying to break through his already hurting throat.

 _“-ance!”_ He heard, from what felt like far away.

 _Little blue,_ Hyvixa purred, from what felt like right next to him. _You know the might of the ocean._

And then.

 _Pop_.

The world came rushing back in.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why on earth does shiro keep sneaking into my fics???? at least this time he's firmly in the good bro category, lmao. sorry for this being late! i have no excuses. also i TOLD you this was going to be a big chapter. you're welcome.
> 
> **p.s.** really long a/n at the bottom that isn't even remotely necessary to read.

Lance shuddered awake, gasping.

His room was dark, suffocating. The small quarters felt like they were closing in on him, sucking the air out of the room, trapping him. Lance fought with his damp blankets, the sweat on his skin spiking ridiculous fear in him as he tasted salt on his lips. The floor felt cool against his skin when he fell onto it, but the claustrophobia was still making his heart gallop in his chest.

Struggling upwards, Lance lurched out of his room, almost tripping over his clumsy feet. The hallway was immediately better than his room, the larger dimension and quiet solitude of it like a breath of fresh air against his heated skin. Following it down, Lance shivered as the sweat began cooling on his skin, ignoring the blue glow Alteans favoured in their design, ignoring his own blue pyjamas he usually loved.

His feet immediately turned him towards Blue’s hangar, but a realisation made him halt to a standstill. If he went to her like this, practically screaming for safety through the bond, she might wake up from her much needed rest, further delaying her healing. He wasn’t _sure_ she would; she’d warned him that she was going to be completely offline, and wouldn’t come back until she was ready, but... but in the off chance that she _could_... He couldn't do that to her, couldn't force her awake for something as stupid as a nightmare, not when he knew just how tired she’d been, just how much she’d pushed herself just as he had, and- besides-

-she was water.

Lance didn’t want water tonight.

Hunk would’ve been a great person to turn to – he would have already been _there_ , if he could, would’ve known through some magical Hunk sense that Lance would need something to ground him, something to remind him that despite his love of swimming and the ocean, he was still a land creature, still had two feet to _walk_ , not _swim_. But Hunk was healing himself; Hunk was resting just like Blue, both of them slowly but surely working their way back to full health.

Stumbling in the opposite direction, Lance wrapped his arms around his chest, hugging himself tightly as he made his way towards Yellow. He didn’t know if the lion was awake – he hoped not, Yellow needed to heal even more than Blue did – but even if he was asleep, Lance doubted he could wake the lion up. They didn’t have a bond, like he and Blue did. They weren’t Paladin and Lion. At least, not _each other’s_ Paladin and Lion, so it should be okay, right? It should be okay if Lance just… sat next to him. Took comfort in his big robotic presence. In the stability provided by a lion that thrived on earth, on mud and rock and mountain.

To his dismayed surprise, Yellow _was_ awake, sitting up on his hind legs with glowing yellow eyes immediately training on Lance as he shuffled in. The rust had gotten worse on the paintjob, brown eating away at the surface, but the lion looked slightly better overall.

But the sight of the ocean’s damage snapped something in Lance. Seeing the sea salt erode away at _the earth_ incited such a deep well of _offense_ that Lance stood up straighter, eyes locked onto the brown, and clenched his fists. Hyvixa’s words echoed in his mind, the way she’d violated his _core_ shivered up his spine.

Who the hell did she think she was, Lance wondered, eyes unfocusing, who the _hell_ did she think she was, talking of the ocean’s might?

The ocean didn’t just _exist_. It sat on a bed of earth, supported and held, it rocked and rolled from the pull of the moon, and the gravity that came with it, it evaporated into the air and became clouds, which in turn rained and became water once more. It _needed_ the other elements, needed the burning fire of the sun to give it light for the surface dwellers, needed the plants that grew from the earth to provide food for its occupants.

Who the _hell_ did Hyvixa think she was, hurting his friends? Trying to hurt _him_? Yellow didn’t deserve what she’d put him through, _Hunk_ didn’t deserve what she’d put him through, and Lance wasn’t going to stand for it. Absolutely not. That sea salt and rust _had to go_.

Snapping out of it, Lance spun towards the maintenance closet Coran had showed him months ago, the closet every hangar had with the equipment needed for the upkeep of the lions. Yellow’s head followed him curiously, watching as Lance’s long legs ate up the distance across the huge hangar. The blue paladin yanked the door open, roughly rummaging through the Altean equipment until he’d found what he was looking for.

Good, he thought to himself as he strode back towards the yellow lion, all the stuff was the same throughout. He’d been a bit worried each lion would have customised maintenance equipment, but thankfully that wasn’t the case. Yellow dropped down low onto his belly, still eyeing Lance as he finally came to a stop in front of him, and made a small rumbly noise in question.

“Look,” Lance answered, placing the cleaning agent, the bucket and the huge wire brush at his feet. “That sea salt is hurting you, and since _someone_ doesn’t want to sleep and rest up its eating away at you faster than it normally would’ve. Right?”

Yellow dropped his head low, almost sheepishly. Lance huffed, not surprised.

“Quiznack, you’re just as bad as Blue, why am I not even surprised?” Lance sighed, rolling his tense shoulders in a bid to shake off the still lingering anxiety from his nightmare. “Can I help?” He asked carefully, staring up at the humongous lion. “Clean it off you, maybe?”

Yellow stared at him for a good, long, moment, still in contemplation. Lance held his breath throughout it all, suddenly realising the magnitude of what he’d asked. They weren’t Paladin and Lion. At least, his mind echoed his previous thoughts, not _each other’s_ Paladin and Lion. Why the hell had he thought he could just _ask_? Stupid. Stupid _useless_ idiot Lance who thought he could just go up to another paladin’s lion and clean them and talk to them and of _course_ Yellow had just been humouring him all this time every time he came to the hangars _of course_ Lance had no right to be here why the _hell_ had he thought he could-

The ground shook, almost throwing Lance off his feet, as Yellow plopped down and spread himself spread eagle. Another rumble came as Yellow settled with a few wriggles, and then the lion went carefully still.

Lance stared, mind going blank for a good few ticks as he and the lion stared at each other. He would’ve carried on staring, completely at a standstill as to what to do, if Yellow didn’t huff at him, a burst of hot air hitting Lance in the face.

Spluttering, Lance coughed his lungs clear, grateful anyway as he finally stopped feeling cold. Nodding to himself, he picked up the cleaning agent, snapped the weird putty lid off with a twist of his hand and poured it into the bucket. He gave it a few minutes to warm up, knowing from his own experience cleaning Blue that it wasn’t ready until it gave off the scent of mint. As soon as it did, he dumped the brush into it and mixed the gel like liquid a few times.

“Right,” he said afterwards, looking up to a patiently waiting yellow lion. “You sure you’re ok with this, buddy?”

Yellow huffed at him, almost sounding amused, and firmly presented his paw.

“Alright, alright,” Lance agreed with a lopsided grin, “Cool your jets. Tell me if anything feels weird, okay?”

At Yellow’s nudge for him to hurry up with a toe wriggle, Lance laughed a little under his breath and got to work, dragging the large wire-rimmed brush against the closest section of Yellow’s paw. The rust and grime came off easily, the cleaning agent doing exactly as it was meant to and leaving behind a sleek polish that reflected in the hangar’s bright light.

The rhythmic motion of the brush’s back and forth lulled Lance into an almost meditative state, his attention limited only to what he was doing and Yellow’s steadfast presence watching over him. What little anxiety lingered from the nightmare disappeared like water down a drain, easing out of him and _away_ , hopefully never to return again. Lance gave the yellow lion’s paw a good scrubbing, following it up with a rag to wipe off the excess cleaning agent and even the remainder into a smooth, clean, finish.

The others were gone, he knew. They’d reacted badly to Hyvixa swallowing him whole and spitting him out by refusing to apologise, bundling a trembling, pale Lance back to the Castle and into new clothes and a warm bed. He hadn’t been all too present to hear what exactly they’d said, or what they’d decided on while he’d shook and shivered, but whatever it was had ended with them telling him to _stay_ and _rest up_ and _leave it to them_ , whatever that meant.

Yellow offered up his other paw, bringing his new clean one up to his face for inspection. A pleased whir from engines deep inside the lion told Lance his cleaning abilities had passed the test, Yellow nudging his dirty paw closer to Lance eagerly.

Shooting the lion a pleased grin, Lance dutifully dipped the brush into the bucket again, coating it in new weird alien cleaning polish, and began scrubbing the new limb, thoughts once more petering out into that comfortable meditative haze.

Coran found him like that hours later, scrub scrub scrubbing along the yellow lion’s head, the last bit left before the lion was completely free of rust and sea grime. The Altean didn’t immediately see him at first, but Yellow flicked an ear to grab Lance’s attention, making him look up, then _down_ , to see the ginger haired man look around the room in confusion.

“Coran!” Lance shouted, grabbing the older man’s attention. “Up here!”

“My word,” breathed the Altean, “What in the jimmies are you doing up there, my boy?”

Laughing at his word choice, Lance waved the brush in the air and said, “Cleaning! Yellow was covered in sea salt and it was delaying his healing so I asked to clean!”

He couldn’t quite make out Coran’s face from his position high up (Yellow was almost intimidatingly _big_ , holy crow), but the confusion was clear in Coran’s voice as he slowly asked, “And… Yellow… allowed you?”

“Yeah!” Lance enthused happily. “He’s really cool! Just like my man, Hunk. They’re perfect for each other!”

Yellow’s ears did a happy little wriggle, pleased with the compliment, and Coran… looked startled?

Lance strained his ears to hear whatever it was the man muttered, but it was too quiet for him. He _did_ hear him call him down though, and Lance pouted a little as Yellow immediately lowered his head ever so slightly, careful not to tip Lance over.

“But I haven’t finished!” Lance complained, dutifully climbing down the side of the yellow lion's neck.

“You should be resting,” Coran disagreed, hurrying over like the mother hen he was and helping Lance down. “But I’m certain that the Yellow Lion appreciated your thoughtfulness. As do I.”

Lance beamed at the praise, a pleased flush making its way on his cheek when Yellow suddenly moved, metal creaking as he moved his paws proudly to display them.

Coran startled at the movement, almost tripping over his own feet before catching himself with an awkward cough.

“You okay?” Lance asked with a frown, unused to the older Altean being clumsy.

“Perfectly fine, m'boy,” Coran waved him off, flushing ever so slightly in embarrassment. “Don't you mind me. Now come on, put that stuff away and let’s retreat to the control room, see how the others are-”

The castle _pinged_ , a soft, quiet sound made to gently catch ones attention.

Frowning mid speech, Coran pulled up his ever present tablet and tap tap tapped on it, no doubt checking what it was the castle had deemed important enough to alert it’s staff too. “Ah, just an environmental warning,” Coran reassured Lance, noticing his concern. “Nothing to worry about, just a little bit of water heading our way.”

Eyebrows raised, Lance stretched up onto his tiptoes and peered over Coran's shoulder, eyeing the illegible writing on the tablet. “Don’t know if you’ve noticed,” he told the older man with a wry twist of his lips, “But water on this planet kinda doesn’t like us. At all. So just how much is ‘a little bit of water’?”

Coran tilted his head in acknowledgement with a little, amused huff, scrolling through the data with deft hands. “Good point, my boy. Let’s see... Coming in from the penza-” _the north_ , Lance translated, “-at a speed of fifty six grimers-” he had no idea what _that_ meant, “- at a height off... oh my.”

Oh my? _Oh my?_

Lance gripped Coran's shoulders, using them to pull himself higher so he could see the screen more easily. “Oh my, what, Coran? At a height of what? Coran?”

“We should call the others,” Coran said tightly, completely ignoring his questions. “The wave will reach them first before it hits us.”

Gut rolling with dread, Lance fell back to his heel and ducked under one of Coran's arms, all but hugging the man lopsidedly as he snatched his tablet from him. He ignored Coran's indignant yelp, eyes taking in the Altean writing and trying to pick up anything familiar. A long, spindly, pale finger tapped at a section – Coran, being helpful – and suddenly the entire tablet switched to a language Lance was intimately familiar with.

“ _Mierda_ ,” he breathed, colour draining from his face. “That’s not _a little bit of water_ , or a _wave_ , Coran. That’s a goddamn tsunami!”

The clear cut Spanish taunted him in return, boasting a tsunami of just over _three thousand feet_ coming in heavy from the north. It would hit the Ovna's main city with absolutely no mercy – the Ovna's main city where all the paladins and Allura were.

“Shit,” Lance cursed, turning wide eyes to a grim looking Coran. “The guys- they’re-”

“Right in the epicentre of it.” Coran confirmed, pulling the tablet out of Lance's loose hold and back into his possession. “I’ll contact them right now.” He said, fingers already flying over the tablet. “They should be done with the apology ritual as is. Perhaps they’re already near.”

The tablet beeped, and suddenly Allura's voice spoke up, sounding confident and _completely unaware_ of the danger they were in. _"Coran, excellent timing. We've just finished and are on our way back. How is Lance?"_

"Good to hear, Princess," Coran replied, face grave with the situation, "Just how close are you all to the castle?"

Allura's tone changed in an instant, immediate suspicion colouring her reply of, _"Very close. Why? Coran, has something happened to Lance? What-"_

Jostling, multiple voices mashed together in alarm in the background, and then- _"Coran-"_ Shiro. _"-What happened? Where's Lance? Is he okay?"_

Coran- Coran _actually rolled his eyes_ , giving Lance a belligerent look that fit perfectly with his snippy response of, "Of course he's fine. He's with me, isn't he?"

Silence on the other end, a pointed sort of absence of sound that felt like Lance was missing something. Why was Coran being snippy? And with _Shiro_ of all people? Did something happen while Lance had been sleeping? Or with Yellow? Some more jostling became evident over the line, and Allura was once more in control of the communicator.

_"Then what exactly is the matter, Coran?"_ She huffed, just as the older Altean's tablet beeped. And then the castle's normally blue light turned an ominous red. And then came the _alarms_ , just as Keith, in the background, could be heard asking, _"Hey, do you guys feel that?"_

"Oh no," Coran whispered, colour draining out of his face.

Lance pushed in close, eyes quickly skimming over the tablet's warnings that were still written in Spanish. The wall of water – _three thousand feet_ and _growing_ _–_ was coming in impossibly faster, speeding up in a way Lance just _knew_ normal water couldn’t. Coran pressed on the screen and forced a holograph to pop up, showing five little dots that signified the missing members of Voltron nearby but not nearly close enough.

The tremors began then, thin vibrations they wouldn’t normally have felt unless they were looking for it. Then they grew stronger, until the coms were alight with everyone shouting, and Lance and Coran were struggling to keep their footing as the castle shook around them.

"You must come inside the castle this instant!" Coran barked down the line, silencing them. "You have three doboshes, otherwise we won't be able to fly out of range of the water-glive!"

" _Water-glive_?" Allura, horrified, Keith in the background asking what the hell a water-glive was.

"A tsunami," Lance translated hurriedly. "Three thousand feet worth of it. Heading right our way. How soon can you guys get here?"

Allura quickly responded with, _"Ten doboshes. Eleven of your earth minutes."_

Too slow. The castle would be submerged if not completely destroyed in six, and Allura and co. would be _dead_ in four.

Pidge was shouting something about her suspicion being right, about something the Ovna had said or other. Lance couldn't hear her properly, not with the hurried planning the others were making. Instead, he turned to Coran, hoping for a plan of their own, for anything they could do. Coran frowned, fingers flying over the tablet, and finally turned to him.

"We have to get the castleship out of range," he told him, eyebrows furrowed in thought. "And yet we can't leave them.”

"I'll get Blue then," Lance said, even as he realised that he _couldn't_ , that she would be too deep in a last burst of healing to hear him. Maybe. He didn't know. "Pick them up while you fly the ship out and get a wormhole ready. Can you do that? Without Allura?"

Coran grimaced, biting a fingernail in a nervous habit Lance had noticed, and shook his head. "Normally, I wouldn't be able to, but there are some secret ways to get around that. They won't be easy though."

Secret ways. Meaning Allura or her father, King Alfor, probably hadn’t known, or still don’t in Allura's case. Maybe even _dangerous_ ways. Lance wouldn't put it past weird Altean tech. Nodding, Lance clapped Coran on the shoulder once, and tried a smile he hoped looked confident. "I'll get them here fast enough." Fast enough that Coran wouldn't have to try opening a wormhole on his own. "But get ready just in case."

_"Absolutely not,"_ Shiro's voice cut in, stern and serious. _"You're in no shape to fly a lion, Lance. Stay in the castle, we'll be there as fast as we can or find shelter."_

"What?" Lance spluttered in disbelief. " _What_ shelter? You guys almost got creamed when it was just Hyvixa this morning, what do you think you'll be able to do against a _three thousand foot_ wall of _water_? By yourselves, without your lions?"

He didn't get a response – Pidge was shouting something at Shiro, Keith was saying something about not wanting to deal with water, and Allura-

_"Lance. You're the Blue Paladin, the guardian spirit of water. I trust your judgement. If you think you need to come, then come."_

_"And hurry up, cargo pilot,"_ Keith added, voice suddenly closer than it'd been throughout, _"Shiro might be fine with drowning, but I sure as crow am not."_

Lance made eye contact with Coran, both of them easily hearing the waver in the Red Paladin's voice. Nodding, Coran turned and dashed off, the hanger doors sliding shut behind his disappearing figure.

Lance quickly moved to follow, dodging the cleaning bucket as it fell and spilled its content over the still shaking ground. He moved past it, mind already racing in trying to remember where his bayard could be, where the quickest route to Blue’s hangar was, how best to wake her up, to get to the others, when suddenly-

A presence. Quieter than Hyvixa. Darker than Hyvixa. _Stronger_ than Hyvixa.

And it was staring right at Lance.

Gasping for suddenly missing oxygen, Lance dropped to his knees, the pain jolting up his legs dim and distant to the aching need for air. The pressure- the _presence_ – pushed down on him, stifled him, _drowned_ him, and Lance knew, had _known_ , that the tsunami wasn’t normal by the Ovna’s standards, that this was something else, some _thing_ else.

The ocean turned treacherous at night.

Struggling, Lance felt his lungs whistle as he sucked in what little air he could, arms shaking as he tried to hold his body up. Everything was shaking around him, the ground, the very _air_ , but he couldn’t tell if it was because of the incoming tsunami or the awoken sea god of night. He didn’t have _time_ for this, Allura was counting on him, _Keith_ was counting on him! Lance had to get up, had to fight through the thick as molasses air and get to Blue.

But could he wake her up? Indecision had him faltering at the innocuous mental voice, the gravity around him taking delight at his momentary weakness and shoving him further towards the ground. Could she even handle it, if he did? Could he fight water with _more water_?

He gagged, a sharp pain piercing his mind as the air around him tried to drown him. The doubts and insecurities grew louder, the whispers turning into a shout, about how he wouldn’t be able to do anything, about how he’d fail, he’d fail _them_ and they’d end up dead and Coran would never forgive him and _Blue_ would be so disappointed in him she’d bubble herself up and choose a different paladin like maybe Allura and-

-and behind him, a very familiar, _grounding_ , roar cut through the air, the pressure, the _presence._

Lance dropped like his strings had been cut, sprawling across the suddenly steady ground as he gasped for the sweet, sweet air that had returned. His fingers grappled at the floor, his mind screaming at the feel of sand trickling through his fingers before reality sunk in and the castle’s cool tiles came back into focus.

Shakily, Lance sat up, turning around to the steady, _grounding_ , presence behind him, and came face to face with the majestic figure of the Yellow Lion, looming tall and impossibly large over him.

_Warm_ , his instincts screamed, the shudders of the previous cold grip he’d been in disappearing with every passing second. Yellow was so goddamn _warm_. Warm like recently upturned earth, solid like the rocky cliffs the ocean tried to beat into submission, _warm_ -

Wait. The ocean trying to beat the cliffs into submission. The ocean, trying to beat the _Earth_ into submission. Keyword: _trying_.

Yellow leaned down, mouth opening to reveal the cockpit that lay within, and waited.

Water couldn’t defeat more water. He’d thought that before as well. But Lance couldn’t pilot Yellow, could he? He didn’t even deserve to pilot _Blue_ (-she could do better, get a better paladin, a better shooter, a better fighter, a better _partner_ -).

But.

_Yellow._

_Yellow_ had opened his mouth for him, _Yellow_ was trusting him to pilot, was _choosing_ him to save their friends from the tumultuous nature of the ocean.

Allura’s voice echoed in his head, Keith’s waver following after. Coran’s expression right before he’d left flickered in Lance’s mind, and then Hunk’s peaceful face suspended in the Altean cryopod.

Inhaling deeply ( _-ir air air air sweet oxygen holy crow air-_ ), Lance held it in for a moment before breathing it out. Yellow didn’t rush him, just like Hunk never rushed him, patient and kind and so quiznaking _warm_.

He was going to save his friends. He was going to save Ovarna, the capital (and singular) city of the Ovna’s. He was going to save them all.

The ocean wasn’t going to win. Not today.

Decision made, Lance stumbled his way onto the ramp, legs still a bit unsteady under him as he made his way into the cockpit. He’d been in the Yellow lion before, once or twice, mostly to help hand Hunk instruments as the genius worked on his favourite space ship. But now, now it felt _different_. Yellow lit up all around him, _just_ for him. The seat adjusted itself as he sat down, pulling forward just a little to make up for the fact that Lance was a little shorter. Yellow hummed all around him, a different sound than the purr Blue loved making, but it steadied him just as it was intended to.

“Alright, Yellow,” Lance breathed quietly, hands trembling as they stretched towards the controls. “I’m guessing this means you know Blue won’t wake up, huh?”

Yellow turned towards the exit that would lead them outside, a grounding hum echoing through the cockpit in confirmation. He got the brief sense image of clean, pure water pouring into a swamp, disappearing as it was overtaken by the murky depths of mud and dirt. Blue, spiralling through the sky, the sky suddenly turning dark and stormy, suddenly turning into a fathomless ocean that would swallow her whole.

Yeah, Lance inhaled sharply, he’d thought the same.

Better for Blue she didn’t wake up. Not to this.

Yellow hummed at him again, the pilot’s seat warming up to imitate a warm hug. Lanced exhaled shakily at it, still awed at the amount of _faith_ Yellow was putting in him. He’d never spoken to another lion besides Blue before, even when Allura had tried to shove him off to an unresponsive Red, tried to shove _Keith_ to an _especially_ unresponsive Black. Lance couldn’t believe it to be honest, couldn’t believe that _any_ lion, nevermind one as cool as the _Yellow Lion_ , would let him pilot them, wouldn’t refuse him on the spot. And yet here he was, piloting the Yellow Lion, _talking_ to him and getting actual genuine replies.

The exit hangar finally slid open, Yellow piloting the best course to intercept the wave. Lance gripped the controls tight, flexing his fingers simply because he _could_ flex his fingers, the oppressive force of the night’s ocean still a present sense memory around him. They shot out into the dark sky, stars and nebulas visible for the brief glimpse Lance saw before focusing instead on the route Yellow suggested.

It would cut them through the projected damage zone of the tsunami, have them right in front of the city where the paladins were struggling to make their way to the castle. Lance nodded at it, committing the route to memory, and gently – _hesitantly_ – urged the controls forward, asking Yellow for permission for a little more speed.

The comlinks rang, strangely not already connecting like Blue always did, but Lance realised why when he saw the call was coming in from the castle. Which meant Coran. Yellow sent a quiet sense of question to him, of whether to accept it or deny it.

Coran would-

Coran-

… Lance didn’t know _what_ Coran would do, or say, if he knew Lance was in Yellow. But… but he couldn’t risk Coran telling him to come back, telling him it was too dangerous or something. He didn’t think Coran _would_ , not when the Altean knew just how hazardous the situation was, but- but in the off-chance case he _did_ , Lance couldn’t risk it.

The call cut off on its own, an image popping up of the castle instead, of the way it began to power up and slowly propel itself into the sky.

Lance had to focus. He could deal with Coran later. Coran wouldn’t be _too_ angry with him. Probably.

“We got a plan, Yellow?” He answered, distracting himself with just how _different_ yet similar Yellow felt. He was heavier to steer, slower all round but especially when changing momentum, but made up for it in sheer defensive capabilities and strength. The yellow glow of the cockpit around him was more gold than he’d expected, a warm light that reminded him painfully of Earth’s sunshine, a pain he savoured hungrily.

The lion hummed around him, wordless reassurance that told him to _believe_ , to trust, in himself, in the lion, in Voltron.

Not… really helpful, Lance winced, biting into his bottom lip, but okay. He could do that. Sort of. Maybe not in himself, or in Voltron – since he didn’t _have_ Voltron with him now, just one fifth of it – but in the yellow lion specifically? Quiznak yeah, Lance could believe in the yellow lion. The yellow lion was _great_ , if Hunk told him to jump Lance would do it without question.

A beep alerted him to the rapidly approaching target, and- there, below, tiny dots that cleared into the figures of his friends once Yellow zoomed in, staring up at him, wide eyed and happy. Lance let his lips slide into a cocky grin, the mask familiar even if he could feel the shakiness to it, even if he knew no one could see him, and let it bolster him.

And in front of him and Yellow, behind his friends-

_you know the might of the ocean._

-he couldn’t _breathe_.

The sun had set at some point, the darkness suffocating, and Lance – distantly, hysterically – wondered how he hadn’t noticed, how he hadn’t noticed the _complete lack of this planet’s sun_. The presence he’d felt before hung heavily in the air, muted only by Yellow’s cockpit, the sensation of fingers grasping at his neck unsettling in its ephemeral state.

Lance struggled to breathe, forcing himself to take in precious oxygen, blanketing himself in the sun-kissed warmth of Yellow’s presence. The wave in front of him was multi-layered, a monstrous amalgation of everything he loved and feared twisted in the darkness of a sunless hemisphere. He could see the still zoomed-in video feed of his friends, running now, mouths open in soundless shouts as they struggled to keep their footing against the shaking earth of the ocean’s anger.

But this wasn’t anger.

He could feel the quiet calm before a storm, the chaotic rhythmic ebb and flow of a sea at night, the certainty – the sheer, unquestionably, _certainty_ – of strength, of authority, of _power_.

This was not anger.

Apex predators were slow to anger.

He could see two black holes within the height of the wave ( _eyes_ , a distant part of him echoed, terrified) piercing into his very soul, could feel a presence, slithering into the base of his neck, setting goosebumps all over him, the violating touch reminiscent of Hyvixa’s grasp. Lance gasped, fingers tightening around Yellow’s controls, spine bowing at the presence, eyes wide in fear. He couldn’t draw in a full breath, he couldn’t- he couldn’t get out of the water, couldn’t see straight, couldn’t figure where up was up and down was _down_ and he was going to _die here_ at the bottom of a fatal ocean and-

_you are_ **_mine_ ** _._

-Yellow _roared_.

The cockpit’s glow _brightened_ , the sunlight radiance warming Lance, like a hot summer noon in the middle of a desert. The wet, trickling sense memory of _before_ evaporated, water becoming steam becoming air, and suddenly Lance could _breathe_ once again, could shake and gasp and bury his face in his hands and grasp his throat gently.

He could feel anger, suddenly. But… not at him. It took a ridiculously long time for Lance to clock on, but when he did he _realised_ it was anger directed _outwards_ , and not at him. It was a familiar sort of anger, one he felt in the presence of a taller boy, a taller _man_ , with a hand that could wrap around Lance’s throat with ease but never did, always held him with the gentlest of touches and the kindest of grasps.

Hunk.

_Yellow_.

This was protective rage.

A different glow caught his attention, lighter than the gold around him, brighter too, and Lance frowned at the connection port that had suddenly opened, similar to the one he knew from Blue’s own cockpit, for when he had to slam his bayard in for whatever insane fight they were in that day. But… he didn’t have his bayard with him – he’d left it in his room, along with his paladin suit, completely unprepared despite Allura’s repeated attempt to get him ( _especially_ him, he noted with a wince) ready.

Yellow seemed unworried, still heading straight for Azunia, who’s waves of low laughter echoed darkly around him, threatening to dim the glow of Yellow’s resolve but faltering. Lance frowned in confusion at the little nudge Yellow gave him, at the request sent to him, following his instinct’s like he always did in looking away, _away_ from the screen depicting certain defeat and the open connection port lazily blinking at him.

_There_ , it felt like Yellow said, humming the words to him, gently steering him to the cockpit’s floor. _There_.

A bayard.

Yellow.

_Hunk’s_.

Lance’s breath shuttered within his throat for a different reason this time, eyes stuck on the red that smeared the inactive bayard’s grip, over the larger handprint in rustic red. He felt sick, eyes locked onto the yellow bayard, on the remnant of his best friend’s injury, felt repulsed by what he knew it signified.

_Trust_ , Yellow breathed into him, the weight of a warm, heavy, blanket settling around Lance’s shoulder. _Believe_.

Lance picked it up.

The open connection port whirred, light blinking faster, eager to do its job. Yellow encouraged him with a grounding hum, the force of it reverberating within his bones, echoing the comfort of Blue, of-

_strange metal creatures,_ Azunia murmured in his ear, darkly amused, darkly curious _, I shall take my time breaking this one apart to look at its insides, soon._

Lance slammed the bayard in.

Yellow roared all around him, the cockpit whirring into life and bright sunlight as the connection port closed around the bayard and _ignited_. Lance held on for dear life as Yellow suddenly nosedived towards the ground, rearing his head back before shooting a beam so bright he went blind for a split second at the earth beneath their nose. The lion – the sturdiest lion of them all, the lion of earth and land – gracefully pulled back up, untouched by the sprays of water that tried reaching it, and Lance-

-Lance stared, awed.

Before him, where the sea had been rolling towards the now safe members of Voltron at lethal speed, was the biggest, sizeable crater Lance had ever seen. It spanned outwards and sideways, stretching horizontally as far as the eye could see, curving with the planet’s curvature, as wide as a smaller planet.

Yellow had effectively dammed the sea.

“Holy crow,” Lance finally croaked out, amazed. “Have I… have I told you you’re amazing?” He asked, voice rising high in delayed giddiness. “Because if I haven’t, you absolutely are. Holy _crow_ , Hunk is _so_ lucky to have you, holy _quiznak_.”

Yellow laughed at him, Lance could just _feel it_ , he _knew_ the yellow lion was laughing at him, but he _didn’t care_. Below him, _far below him_ , Azunia hummed in overdue reaction, and Lance could- Lance could _feel_ the sea’s careful reconsideration of them both.

_you know the might of the ocean_ , the sea god of night hummed, impressed, _and so does your strange metal lion._

Another voice, another presence, muted and distant; laughing. Hyvixa; laughing at her brother’s predicament, bringing to Lance’s mind with painful clarity his own sister laughing at his own, dumb, predicaments.

Azunia sighed, distantly amused, distantly forlorn-

_You, little blue, would have made a wonderful offering._

Oh.

So _that’s_ why Yellow had become so angry.

Suddenly unsettled, Lance tore himself away from the deceptively calm mega lake, focusing instead on the video feed that showed his friends finally reaching the relative safety of the floating Castle. Coran must have sent down the pods rather than land the ship, Lance realised, which made better tactical sense than landing and waiting for them to board.

Slowly gripping the controls at Yellow’s gentle nudge, Lance steered the large lion back towards his hangers, away from the quiet rippling of an idle conversation between deities Lance could only ever touch upon in understanding.

He'd loved the stars too fondly to be afraid of the night, still did even now, when said stars had tried killing him countless times. But the unknown, the adventure of the unexplored, the burning _need_ to _see_ , had always been eclipsed by the stranger presence on his planet alone.

The oceans.

He’d always been baffled by how humanity had never reached the bottom of the ocean, how – to this _day_ – no one quite knew what exactly roamed in its inky darkness.

Yet unlike space, Lance had never truly wanted to _know_.

Lance loved the ocean too fondly to not be afraid of its depths.

The heavy silence from Yellow echoed that knowledge, doubled it, _tripled_ it: for who knew the ocean better than the earth that held it within its arms?

… He was going to have nightmares about this.

Yellow rumbled around him, a wordless sense of comfort that Lance drank in like ambrosia as the lion landed gracefully in his hanger, powering down as Lance finally let go off the controls. Strangely enough though, Yellow made no move to let him out, everything dimming until all that lit up the cockpit was the bayard still within the connection port.

Lance stared at it wordlessly for a long moment, finally reaching over to grip it by the handle. The connection port whirred open, letting the weapon free, and Lance tucked it into the back of his jeans, his loose jacket falling over it, covering it up. “I’ll clean it up,” he told Yellow, running the tips of his fingers across the lion’s control panels. “Get it ready for Hunk.”

Yellow didn’t respond, not at first, but then-

_Warmth._

A sudden burst of it, a solar flare, shivering up his neck to the very top of his scalp. Lance could feel goosebumps rise along his skin from the sensation, from the trickling feel of a telepathic hug enveloping him whole, soothing what remained of Azunia’s dark, inky touch.

Sagging bonelessly in the yellow seat, Lance’s head fell backwards against the headrest, eyes closing of his own violation, and just enjoyed the sun beating down on him, the sound of seagulls, the steady wave of a calm, inviting sea-

_-Oh_ , he thought slowly, relaxed, _hi Blue_.

The warmth retreated, replaced by a different warmth Lance knew more intimately – the natural hot spring his family had roadtripped to one eventful summer holiday, the steam lazily rising in the air, the sweet smell of fresh nature all around, the mud treatment Lance and his mom had giggled their way through while his dad had stoically suffered beside them.

Blue murmured her greetings back at him, not breaking the mood, her attention swaying away from him and somewhere else. Yellow hummed something then, presence deeper, seemingly more solid than Blue’s, and Lance realised with a distant realisation that they were talking to each other, having their own conversation, maybe even Yellow telling Blue what she’d missed.

Speaking of which, he had to go find the team, didn’t he?

He felt it when Yellow’s attention sharpened, his focus crystallizing on something, as sharp as a mountain peak piercing through the sky. The lion rumbled as he settled low, jaws opening, and Lance finally stood up and stretched, muscles still languid from the sense memory of a day at the beach, everything he’d ever loved bundled together and blanketed around him by the two legs of Voltron.

Blue was awesome. _Yellow_ was awesome. He wondered distantly if the other lions were this awesome.

Blue threw him a disgruntled huff, fire and uncontrollable speed flitting through Lance’s mind in a solid footprint of the Red lion’s presence. _Annoying_ , she whispered to him peevishly. _Trouble_.

Lance snorted, lips pulling into a wide grin when he felt Yellow throw a chiding rumble Blue’s way, _exactly_ like Hunk did every time Lance huffed himself about their resident red paladin and whatever insane impulse he’d followed through on. Like lions, like paladins, huh?

Making his way down the ramp, Lance looked back when he could at the Yellow lion, taking in the guardian spirit of earth once more. Yellow closed his mouth once Lance left, moving his huge paws so he could pillow his head on them, and exhaled hot breath in Lance’s face.

_Go on_ , that gesture said, clear as the sun on a cloudless sky.

So Lance went.

He found the others in the control room, a frantic team that whirled around at the sound of the doors sliding open.

“Lance!” Shiro shouted, halting Lance’s approach, the Cuban boy immediately preparing for a lecture. “You’re okay!”

Surprised, Lance blinked at his team, slapping Pidge’s hands away when the smaller one rushed forward just to poke him in the ribs. “What?” He frowned, attention split by the green paladin’s spindly fingers. “Of course I’m okay, why wouldn’t I be? But wait, what about you guys? You all good?”

The pained relief that flashed over Shiro’s face was _strange_ , as was the slumped shoulders and the breathy exhale of, “Oh thank _god_.”

“You said you were coming in Blue,” Keith explained, scratching at his cheek like the weirdo he was. “So when we didn’t see Blue and then came in the castle and didn’t see _you_ we started worrying you were still out there.”

“I couldn’t find you myself, m’boy.” Coran added helpfully, fingers tugging at the end of his moustache in another nervous habit. “I pulled up the feeds to the Blue lion’s hangar and found the lion still there, yet I couldn’t find you anywhere.”

Oh. _Oh_.

But he’d been in Yellow- _Oh!_ “Oh right! Guys that’s because I was–”

The doors hissed open behind him, which made no sense, since everyone was accounted for in the control room. Frowning, Lance turned around to see who it could be, wondering if maybe it was the mice, and felt his face go slack with surprise when he saw a familiar, loved, face.

Yawning widely and still in the white get-up of those shoved into a cryopod, Hunk greeted them with an awkward little wave, his other hand holding the door frame for support. “Hi, guys. Wassup?”

Pidge _screeched_ , bowling Lance over in her haste to get to the yellow paladin, Lance grabbing her by the collar of her uniform on wild instinct, pulling her back so he could get their _first_.

It was a wild mess of shouts and Hunk’s increasingly confused attempts to reassure them that he was totally fine, interspaced by Allura’s proud, “Hunk, you were _amazing_!” that brought both the yellow and blue paladin’s up short.

“I… was?” Hunk frowned, visibly confused. “Oh, cool I guess. I was just checking to see where you guys were, but, like,” another yawn, strong enough to bring tears to Hunk’s eyes, a slight wobble that had Lance quickly shoving himself underneath Hulk’s larger bulk to support him, “I’m gonna go sleep now.”

“Oh, of course!” Coran shouted, rushing forward to liberate a struggling Lance of Hunk’s slowly deflating self. “You must be exhausted, number two! All of you must be! Come on, off to bed with you all. We can debrief after we’ve all had a rejuvenating nap!”

Allura pulled a face, turning to face the podium where she occupied most of the time. “I shall fly us out of orbit first, I think. In case any other… meteorological _incidents_ decide to take place.”

“Good plan,” Pidge nodded quickly, Keith echoing the movement besides her. “I approve, I don’t trust the Ovna _at all_. They definitely knew what was going to happen – I bet that tsunami wouldn’t have affected their city _at all._ ”

Now _that_ was something Lance hadn’t thought off, and frankly, knowing now that Azunia had considered him a suitable _offering_ like what the Ovna had demanded they _offer_ to begin with, Lance found he didn’t quite _want_ to think about this. At all.

Coran huffed irritable at Allura's decision but pointedly didn’t argue, instead throwing Hunk’s arm over his own shoulders while shooting Lance a pointed look behind the relative safety of Hunk’s back, where nobody could see. “Very well, Princess. But I _will_ know if you remain here after - I'll know if _any_ of you remain out here for too long, yessiree. Come, yellow paladin, you must sleep off the cryopod.”

“It really _was_ impressive what you did, Hunk,” Shiro smiled in farewell, expression soft with pride. “Go sleep it off, champ. We’ll talk when you wake up.”

Coran led Hunk away, shooting Lance one, last, sharp look that promised an interrogation, the doors hissing shut behind their backs. Pidge immediately announced that she was heading to bed too, throwing a punch at Lance’s midsection like the little gremlin she was on her way out, and Keith… Keith complained about feeling sticky and gross but not wanting to go anywhere near the showers for a while, which was disgusting, frankly, especially since Lance could _see_ how greasy the mullet’s mullet had become. Ew.

He was still brimming with the need to crow about what had happened, to gush about Yellow, to let his team know just how amazing the lions were, just how little they – the paladins – knew about them, but the moment passed like a deflating balloon, leaving the words stuck in his throat. Shiro clapped him on a shoulder, that strange expression of relief still visible in the permanent groove between his eyebrows, and bid Allura farewell for them both.

“Lance,” he started, his hand warm and heavy on Lance’s shoulder as he steered the Cuban out into the hallway. “I wanted to talk to you, actually.”

The thing about Shiro, Lance had found, was that the black paladin tended to be both reassuring yet terrifying. Lance would always want him around, because Shiro was the best person to have at your back, but the constant, debilitating fear of disappointing him echoed Azunia’s presence far too perfectly for Lance’s heart.

Case in point- “-Oh god, whatever I did, I’m _sorry_.”

It was the wrong thing to say.

Shiro’s expression _broke_ , guilt and heartbreak so visible it stole Lance’s breath away. The hand on his shoulder tightened reflexively, then stayed that way, as if worried Lance would disappear in a spray of sea water.

“No, no, _god_ no,” Shiro hurriedly responded, tripping over his words for the first time in Lance's company, “Geez, buddy, this is _exactly_ why I wanted to talk to you. You have _nothing_ to be sorry for, you hear me? God, Coran was absolutely right.”

Coran? What? His confusion must’ve been easy to see because Shiro’s face twisted into a contrite smile, apologetic just as much as it was self-deprecating.

“He ripped me a new one after you got hurt during that apology thing,” he explained, the words meaning nothing to Lance until a whisper of a breeze clarified it for him. Hyvixa. _Oh_. “Yeah, that.” Shiro huffed ruefully, lips crooked into a weak smile. “And he brought to my attention that I’ve been… wrong… about a lot of things. Mainly how I just _assumed_ things and didn’t take the time to actually talk to you about them, to hear them from your side. Specifically,” he added on, seeing Lance’s confusion, “What being in the Blue lion while fighting the Galra would feel like when you were surrounded by so much water. And angry, _sentient_ water at that.”

Lance frowned uncomfortably, shifting from foot to foot under Shiro’s heavy hand still on his shoulder. “It’s nothing,” he denied, ignoring the way his hands had been sore from clutching Blue’s handles as tightly as he had. “Coran’s just exaggerating-” Lance suddenly remembered Coran snapping at Shiro over the coms, how weird it had been, “-it’s really nothing. I should’ve focused more when we formed Voltron.”

“No, Lance, _no_ ,” Shiro groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. “ _You_ were fine, it was _me_ that wasn’t fine. I-” he sighed, heavy and world-weary, shoulders slumping low as he went quiet. Lance kept his mouth shut, unnerved by the strangeness of it all, hoping, _begging_ , someone to suddenly pop up and interrupt whatever the hell was happening here.

No dice. Shiro inhaled deeply, shoulders squaring up into the broad strength Lance was more accustomed too, and looked him deep in the eye. “Ever since the battle with Zarkon-” Lance stopped breathing, eyes widening, thinking, ‘ _Is he...? Is he going to talk about it?’_ , “-And coming back,” _‘Oh,_ ’ Lance exhaled quietly in disappointment, unsurprised, only to suck it back in again when Shiro continued, “I’ve been… angry. Or, quick to anger, I guess. I’ve been struggling with keeping control and I’ve taken it out on you, on _all_ of you. Lance, you’ve done _nothing wrong_ – you were making the right decision when you said you’d come out to save us, it was the only decision you _could’ve made_ , and I- I refused because I didn’t want you to get _hurt_. After you _disappeared_ from my sight right into the ocean, right before I could grab you, I-”

Shiro stopped, voice failing on him. Swallowed thickly. Tried again.

“It was quiznaking _horrible_.”

_Oh_ , Lance thought distantly, _oh_.

“I thought I’d lost you, that _we’d_ lost you, and then Coran chewed into me and made me realise you’d been the only thing that really kept us _alive_ when we fought the Galra, and then you wanted to _come out in blue_ against the ocean when it had _just_ tried to take you away from us and I- I freaked out. Badly. And I wanted to apologise for that.”

Mouth opening, no words coming out, Lance closed it shut again, lost for words. Shiro’s lips twitched at his expression, his hand on Lance’s shoulder rising to pat him in the same space once, then twice, settling there again like a warm blanket.

“It’s okay.” Shiro smiled, a smile that had become all but rare ever since his still unexplained disappearance. “We’re all tired, and I’ve just unloaded way more than I planned to on you. I won’t bother you with anything more-”

“-You can!” Lance blurted out, suddenly gripped by the need to _speak_. “I mean, you _can_ bother me with stuff. Shiro, you’ve got so much locked up in there-” a poke to Shiro’s rock hard chest, _damn_ , “-that it’s killing you, man. You _need_ to let that stuff out, and not just in the training room in the middle of the night when you think nobody will know, man, we _all_ know, you're not hiding it from us. And I’m not the only one that’d be willing – crow, _more_ than willing – to just _listen_ to you man, or just give you company, we’d _all_ be.”

Shiro’s smile went lopsided, thankful but so _obviously_ unwilling as he said, “Thanks Lance, I know you and the other pala-”

“The Black lion would _definitely_ be happy to just hear you out, Shiro,” Lance pressed on, completely missing what Shiro had been saying, completely missing the shocked surprise, too incensed as he thought of the lions, of the _wealth_ of emotions and feelings they held between them. “You’re her paladin! And if not, Yellow is like, _super cool_ , man, and Blue is always down to just, like, mental-link comfort you. She does it with me all the time, you don’t even have to tell her anything! Although fair warning, she’s super curious, so she might just go rifling through your head for whatever’s bothering you _anyway_.” He huffed, rolling his eyes when Blue shot him a belligerent growl, swishing her mental tail at him.

“That’s…” Shiro stared at him, expression lax for once with surprise. “… Sure,” he finished lamely, eyes sharpening on Lance the same way Coran’s had done before, like he’d seen something new and was trying to figure it out, trying to fix a puzzle. “Wow,” Shiro added, seemingly to himself, “Coran hadn’t been kidding.”

“What?” Lance asked, frowning.

“Oh, nothing,” Shiro grinned, _grinned_ , like he was just the twenty three year old he’d been before everything had happened, before Voltron, the Galra, _Kerberos_. How old was he now, Lance wondered, how old were any of them? “But… you’re right, Lance. I guess I really do need to take some of my own advice. I… I think I’ll go visit the Black lion, actually.”

“ _After_ sleeping,” Lance suggested helpfully, feeling his own body beg him for a horizontal surface. “Coran really _will_ know if you stay up, and he’ll hunt you down.”

Shiro huffed a laugh, shooting Lance an appraising look as he nodded. “Sure thing, buddy. That’s a great idea. For _both_ of us.”

Pleased at the agreement, Lance nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he swayed on the balls of his feet. Blue was lulling him with the siren song of his room, cheating since she knew he could never resist the temptation of that song, and Yellow was a warm throb somewhere in the very back of his mind, an open connection, established and well loved, but offline for now. He could poke it awake, feel the wordless emotions of the toughest lion, a bond not being a Paladin and his Lion, but _a_ Paladin and Lion.

“Then until tomorrow?” Shiro asked, raising the hand that had been on Lance's shoulder to ruffle his hair with. “I’ll make sure Allura gives us a late morning, let us sleep in for once.”

“Ooooh,” Lance groaned happily, already thinking of the joy of waking up without an alarm or worse blaring in his ears. “That sounds _amazing_.”

Shiro laughed, using his hand on Lance’s hair to push him back, towards the paladin rooms. Used to the casual manhandling from his own older brothers, Lance went, loudly whining about Shiro messing with his perfectly styled hair, winning another laugh from the older boy.

They separated at their rooms, Shiro actually looking relaxed for once, not as high strung as usual, igniting a ridiculous sense of pride in Lance that he’d had a hand in that, even if he had no idea _how_.

“Thanks, Lance,” Shiro told him warmly, his door open, feet half in. “I’m glad we got to talk.”

Slapping his own keypad to open his door, Lance grinned back, agreeing with a pointed, “Any time, Shiro. Any time.”

That night, Lance slept the sleep of the happily dead. He had no nightmares.

#

“Sooooo,” Hunk greeted him amiably the next morning, sliding next to Lance at the kitchen table, long after everyone else had left. “The guys told me I did something cool yesterday. Something about the yellow lion and an evil sea god and a cool dam?”

“Uuuuh…” Lance cleverly replied, brain’s processes halting to a stop, panic drying his mouth. “That’s… Uuh… You know-”

His pathetic attempts at scrounging up a good enough excuse turned into a squeek, body going rigid at the sudden arms that were wrapped around him, immediately going lax in the next second when he realised it was just Hunk ( _Hunk_ ), gathering him close and hugging him tight.

“Thank you,” his best friend murmured quietly, warm and bright and strong, “For taking care of Yellow for me.” Sense images; Yellow, offline, battered and bruised, Yellow, barely awake and aware, Yellow, eager for more stories of Hunk, Yellow, showing off his newly cleaned paw. Hunk hugged him tighter, pressing his cheek against Lance’s temple, intimate and genuine. “There’s no one better I’d trust with him than you, bro.”

And in that warm pulse in the back of his mind, that spot of yellow in a mind filled with blue – was Yellow, echoing the sentiment, with warmth and steady truth-

_there’s no one better I’d trust with my sun than you, little blue._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hunk tells no one what happened because lance begs him not to, but shiro pretty much clocks on because hunk is terrible at pretending that, oh yeah, he totally saved them, from the evil sea gods, yeah. coran gives lance the silent treatment up until he finally snaps and shouts at lance that he'd been so _worried_ for the boy! he couldn't find him in the castle and blue had been in her hangar and then yellow had suddenly flown off and coran had just??? freaked out??? because lance had already almost _drowned_ when he'd been off with the others and now he was out there _again_???? couldn't he have at least given this old man a quiznaking _warning????_ but lance, with stars in his eyes because coran _cares about him_ apologises and they hug and everything is okay.
> 
> also, here's the paragraph that started this whole idea, and never actually fit in in the end:
> 
> The Blue Lion was the most accepting of the lions, the most adaptable, the most fluid. Her Paladin had to echo that, mirror it in his actions as well as his quintessence, and her Lance did all that and _more_.
> 
> “He’s all sticky and gross,” he was telling her, hands fluttering nervously at his sides. “And Hunk is in the pods and I’m pretty sure if someone doesn’t clean him up its gonna get hard and I know how you hate that. I just want Hunk not to worry! I want to help him, and I know he'd appreciate it if he knew someone had thought to clean his lion, but, like, is that bad? Are you allowed to clean another lion? Is Yellow gonna eat me? Are _you_ going to get angry at me and close me off and never talk to me aga-”
> 
> - _Breathe_ , she commanded, happy amusement bubbling up inside her at her paladin's thoughtfulness. _Go. Yellow will appreciate it._
> 
> Thanks for reading my dudes!

**Author's Note:**

> for the low, low price of $5.99, you - yes, you! - can join me at my [tumblr](https://na-jaax.tumblr.com/)! join now, while the offer's still fresh! offer is subject to terms and conditions dictated by the tony stark defense squad and are liable to change via the coran coran the gorgeous man act of 2016.


End file.
